On the Outside Looking In
by MutedClamour
Summary: Jonathan Crane watches from outside a patient’s cell and cannot help but toy with a particular schizophrenic. But is it the fear in Thomas’ eyes that Crane loves or something else? Crane/Thomas. Slash.


Jonathan Crane looked through the small window of the cell in great interest. A thin grin graced his features as he observed a certain patient of his, Thomas Schiff. The administrator gave a heavy sigh as Schiff showed signs of his schizophrenia once again, turning his head slightly in both directions, practically sensing Crane from outside his room. He leaned in closer to the window, entertained by his patients every gesture. The fear in his eyes, oh, he loved it. There was no need to use his gas on _his_ Thomas; he could well let him have his fears engulf him on his own.

Crane found his hands setting at the edge of the glass opening on the door, fingers leaving slight imprints on it as he remained enraptured by his patient's fear. It was truly beautiful. No, he would never experiment on this one. Thomas Schiff was one of his few handfuls of patients who were truly insane unlike Falcone's men that he managed to use for his experiment. No,no, his Schiff was not afraid of no Scarecrow, but simply Jonathan Crane, the _harmless_ psychiatrist.

It made him feel powerful striking fear into the lanky man without his burlap sack. Thomas continued to sit curled closely on his bed as Crane observed him. Jonathan was enraptured by his patient, and could not resist the urge to go into the room to play with the man's mind as his hand reached for the firm lock on the door.

The doctor entered with his hands behind his back and took his time approaching his patient, prolonging the suspense in Schiff's mind. The younger man did not have a cellmate because of his serious mental condition, and Crane was glad for a short moment. It was no fun toying with people when there was others around.

"Thomas Schiff, paranoid schizophrenic," Jonathan seemed to draw out, picking up a small stool and dragging it by Schiff's bed. He enjoyed the sound of the chair against the floor. "Suffering from severe hallucinations and delusions, disorganized speech and social dysfunction." He silently admired the younger man in the orange jumpsuit as he seemed to laugh in nervousness. _'Oh, how fear controls the nerves. It's truly fascinating. Controlling one's motivation and governing every response...'_

"Do you know why you are here, Thomas?" Crane asked.

Schiff looked at the doctor for a second before shaking his head and answering in a meek voice. "N-no."

"You see," The doctor took a moment to adjust his glasses and clear his voice. "It is because _some_ people believe you and the rest of the people here are far too dangerous for Gotham. Do you think they are telling the truth?"

"But I d-did not do anything!" The patient suddenly outburst and Crane smiled softly at the minor stutter.

"_Yet_." The doctor added and Thomas took a moment to hyperventilate, gripping at the fabric of his pants.

Jonathan set his hands against Schiff's shoulders and the man shuddered as sapphire eyes pierced his brown ones and the psychiatrist amused himself for a moment in remembrance of Poe's tell-tale heart.

The story of the madman who had killed an elder in insanity caused by the innocent victim's pale blue eyes, that the crazed man had said made his '_blood run cold'_. But his little Thomas would never betray him in such a way, would he? He was an obedient boy and obeyed when told; yet the thought entertained him none the less.

He set his fingers against the patient's cheek, watching him turn his head as if trying to get away from the foreign contact. Crane frowned.

"Tut, tut, come now." Jonathan scolded lightly, and Thomas eventually let the doctor stroke at his cheek. His face still wore a look of nervousness; he calmed himself as Crane did not pose much threat to him as he simply ran his fingers against his face, venturing slightly to his neck and collarbone.

'_He is so pale…' _The doctor thought. There was a barred window at the top of one of the cell walls, but Jonathan did not suppose that would help very much as the sunlight never shined bright in the Narrows.

Gotham did not need to be protected by Thomas Schiff; it was he who needed protection from the city and Jonathan Crane was careful to not let any harm come to his little patient. The doctor was infatuated with the schizophrenic, from the very moment Thomas entered; Jonathan was obsessed by the patient's every move. The weak laugh when he was afraid, the stuttering of his words, his inability to see right from wrong….

"There-there are voices in the room, I hear them a-all the time." Schiff suddenly said as he looked down to see Crane's hand momentarily playing with the collar of his jumpsuit. "Make them-m stop."

"Voices, you say?" Jonathan said in interest, removing his hand from the man's clothing and setting them on his lap. "Well that is no good, is it Thomas?" The frightened man nodded quickly, clutching at the fabric of his clothes again with his sweaty palms. "I'll give you a dose of haloperidol* in the morning, how does that sound?"

Thomas made no response, but the doctor grinned either way.

"Dr. Crane, you have an appointment in twenty minutes." A nurse said suddenly, opening the door slightly and poking her head in. Both men turned towards the woman baring the face of annoyance and fright.

"I am well aware." Crane gave an exasperated sigh, fixing his tie and vest. In truth, he had completely forgotten, but refused to let the woman know. He rose from the stool and turned towards Schiff as the nurse made her leave.

"Until next time, Thomas."

He closed the door behind him, sighing as he locked it with a flick of his wrist. He removed his glasses and pressed at the bridge of his nose in irritation. Jonathan looked past the small window again, Thomas, now a nearby blur of orange and brown against the pastel coloured walls. His eyes closed midway. Quickly cleaning his glasses, he returned them onto his face and made a short frown when everything became clear again. He did not look back as he made his way to his office to prepare himself for his meeting. The small imprints of his fingers remaining on the glass.

___________________________

His plan had failed, that damned Batman. Half the city was ridden with his gas but Ra's had failed to complete his task. The inmates of Arkham wandered the streets and Crane could not help but wonder if Thomas was among them. Had Thomas run away as well just like the rest of them leaving him with nothing? He imagined the younger man being caught by the Gotham police and then he paused-

_What am I thinking?_ He had no time to think about mindless things like this.

He was quick to hide, cursing under his breath at the caped crusader. Oh, he would have his revenge. Jonathan managed get away from the madness on the streets and rested in an empty alley. His breath the only audible sound in the cold hiding place as he removed his mask and reached for his glasses inside his coat pocket.

His arms twitched painfully still and there was a great ache in the middle of his chest and the back of his head. That damned attorney woman, he should have gotten rid of her when he had the chance. Damn them all! Using his gas against him, the nerve!

He grunted as his glasses bared a deep crack in the right lense and he cursed at the world again. How things seemed to fall apart in a matter of hours.

He wanted to see them all squirming under his gas once again, wanted his Arkham back, wanted his patients to experiment with, and somewhere deep inside him he wanted to see Thomas again.

____________________________

******* Haloperidol is a drug mostly used for people with schizophrenia and is to combat against delusions and hallucinations. **


End file.
